The What - 2005 Remaster

I used to get feels on a bitch

Now I throw shields on the dick to stop me from that HIV shit

And niggas know they soft like a Twinkie filling

Playing the villain, prepare for this rap killing

Biggie Smalls is the illest, your style is played out

Like Arnold on that, "What you talking 'bout, Willis?"

The thrill is gone, the Black Frank White

Is here to excite and throw dick to dykes

Bitches, I like 'em brainless, guns I like 'em stainless steel

I want the fucking fortune like the Wheel

I squeeze gats 'til my clips is empty

Don't tempt me, you don't want to fuck with the- (M-E-T-H-O-D Man, here I am)

I'll be damned if this ain't some shit

Come to spread the butter lyrics over hominy grit

It's the low killer death trap, yes I'm a jet-black ninja

Coming where you rest at, surrender

Step inside the ring, you's the number one contender

Looking cold-booty like your pussy in December

Nigga, stop bitching, button up your lip and

From Method all you getting is a can of ass-whipping

Hey, I'll be kicking you son, you doing all the yapping

Acting as if it can't happen

Your frontin' got me mad enough to touch something

Yo, I'm from Shaolin Island and ain't afraid to bust something

So what you want nigga? You won't nigga

I got a 6-shooter and a horse named Trigger

It's real, '94 rugged-raw

Kickin' down your goddamn door

(And it goes a little something like this)

Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit

Everything you get you gotta work hard for it

(Honeys shake your hips) you don't stop

(And niggas pack the clips) keep on, bitch

Two, coming with that Olde E brew

Meth-tical, putting niggas back in ICU

I'm lifted, troop, you can bring your wack-ass crew

I got connections, I'll get that ass stuck like glue

Huh, no question, I be coming down and shit

Yo, I gets rugged as a motherfucking carpet get

And niggas love it, not in the physical form but in the mental

I spark and they cells get warm

I'm not a gentleman, I'm a Method Man

Baby, accept it, utmost respect it, and

(Assume the position) stop, look, and listen

I spit on your grave then I grab my Charles Dickens, bitch

Welcome to my center, honeys feel it deep in they placenta

Cold as the pole in the winter

Far from the inventor, but I got this rap shit sewed

And when my MAC unloads, I'm guaranteed another video

Ready to die, why I act that way?

Pop duke left mom duke, the faggot took the back way

So instead of making hoes suck my dick up

I used to do stick-ups, 'cause hoes is irritating like the hiccups

Excuse me, flows just grow through me

Like trees to branches, cliffs to avalanches

It's the praying mantis, deep like the mind of Farrakhan

A motherfucking rap phenomenon, plus

(I got more Glocks and TECs than you)

I make it hot, (niggas won't even stand next to you)

Nigga touch me, you better bust me three times in the head

Or motherfucker's dead, you thought so

Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit

And everything you get you gotta work hard for it

(Honeys shake your hips) you don't stop

(And niggas pack the clips) keep on, bitch

Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit

Everything you get you gotta work hard for it

(Honeys shake your hips) you don't stop

(And niggas pack the clips) keep on, bitch

Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique in full effect (yeah, what the fuck you want, nigga?)

Ah, yeah, hell yeah (Biggie Smalls and Meth-tical)

Bedford–Stuyvesant the livest one (9-4 coming at you raw)

My borough is thorough (Shaolin Island, yeah)

Recognize (yeah)